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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29181897">Ghosts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/jencsi/pseuds/jencsi'>jencsi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>CSI: Crime Scene Investigation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Multi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:20:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,751</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29181897</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/jencsi/pseuds/jencsi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A fresh faced CSI, Finn (28 years old in this fic) must contemplate more death after the loss of her father in Summer 1996.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Ghosts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>June 1996- </p><p>         “Thank you very much for calling, yes he was very special, and I’m so glad you recovered so well, oh you know, we will manage, yes of course, the ceremony is tomorrow, all right see you then.” </p><p> </p><p>Finn paced outside the hallway of her parents bedroom, listening to her mother speak on the phone. The bedroom door was ajar and light was spilling in and out of it. As she paced, she clutched a stuffed teddy bear in one arm, nervously picking at her fingernails with the other free hand. She waited until the phone call ended before holding the copper colored door handle, turning it gently, pushing it open and peeking inside.</p><p>       Karen was sitting up in bed, dressed in a floral robe, pajamas tucked underneath, scribbling something on a notebook. A bouquet of flowers in a ceramic vase was perched on her nightstand, a book and some reading glasses occupied the other. A digital alarm clock flashed at the time of 9:00pm. </p><p>      “Mom?” Finn whispered to her from her hiding spot, hovering between the room and the hallway. </p><p>      “Yes dear what is it?” Karen asked. </p><p>“I can’t sleep,” Finn complained. </p><p>     “I’m sorry, it’s the phone,” Karen apologized as she started shifting the items on the empty side of her bed, piling them on to the nightstand and turning down the blankets. </p><p>      “Here, you can bunk with me tonight,” Karen offered the space and Finn accepted, entering the bedroom. </p><p>	The carpet was still a gaudy orange color, unchanged in fifteen years or so. Random framed photos of watercolor flowers and landscapes hung on the white colored walls. Built in wood shelves took up some of the space while a stand and a boxy television occupied another side. Old magazines, tv guides, papers and dust littered that space underneath the credenza. A dresser with fading wood held most of the rest of the belongings. On top of the dresser was a white lace doily, a jewelry box with her mothers earrings, necklaces, and such. Metal and wood framed photos of her parents and some of herself as a child occupied that top dresser space. The closet was ajar and she could see some clothes sticking out. An air conditioning unit was tucked in the window and on to a soft cool hum of air. One just like it occupied her own room but she had forgotten to turn it on and the space was stuffy among other things. It was nice to have the cool air up here all these years when so many of her friend’s homes did not have that luxury. A soft pink glow was still trying to get through the curtains but the summer sun would soon be gone behind the horizon, another day gone just like that. </p><p>Finn padded over to the bed and climbed in under the covers, never letting go of her plush bear. The sheets here were cool but fading as well. The floral pattern is missing petals and stems in some sections. The pillows were mostly flat after years of use and the attached headboard creaked when she lay down. She wondered why her parents never upgraded this space since her childhood but now, she was somewhat grateful for the time capsule effect, it reminded her of nights she ran here when there was a bad thunderstorm, a nightmare or something scary plagued her young mind. No matter what, her father always let her stay until she felt safe. </p><p>       “Hey I know him,” Karen remarked of the toy in her daughter’s arms “snuggle bear, where have you been hiding him?” </p><p>        “My room,” Finn said plainly. </p><p>“I remember when your daddy brought him home for you,” Karen reminisced, touching the bear's soft fur paw gently. </p><p>      Finn remembered too. She was seven and just getting over a cold having missed school for two days and was seemingly on the mend when he surprised her with the toy from the hospital gift shop. Unable to part with it or most of her stuffed animals from childhood, she kept them tucked away nearly in a storage chest by her bed and pulled them out in times of comfort much like the last few days required. </p><p>    	  “Why are so many people calling?” Finn asks her mother now. </p><p>       “Well honey a lot of people loved your daddy very much,” Karen explained “he helped a lot of patients at the hospital and they miss him.” </p><p>	That was obvious, Finn knew, but she didn’t know where to steer this conversation. She just knew she didn’t want to be alone in her room where things were too quiet. She had not stayed in that room since Christmas, only making it her home for the last two weeks when her mother frantically called her in Seattle to inform her of her fathers declining health. Now that space seemed so cold and isolated, her father resided here, and here was where she wanted to be. </p><p>	Finn spotted the notepad in her mothers lap and the pen clipped to the top of it. </p><p>		“What are you writing?” Finn asked.</p><p>	“My speech for the dedication tomorrow,” Karen explained, “do you want me to proofread yours?”</p><p>	“What?” Finn asked, stunned. </p><p>“Don’t tell me you didn’t write one,” Karen scolded her.</p><p>	“I didn’t know I had to,” Finn protested. </p><p>“Honey this is your fathers ceremony, we are his only family,” Karen explained the implications. </p><p>	“But I hate speeches,” Finn protested “why can’t you do it?” </p><p>	She clutched the blankets tighter to her body, squeezing the bear, feeling more like a child now that in previous days. </p><p>	“Your father would want you to,” Karen continued. </p><p>		“No he wouldn’t,” Finn snapped coolly now  “he wouldn’t want that stupid plaque and wing named after him, all those people, he would hate it and you know it.” </p><p>	Karen sighed and swept Finn’s curls back soothingly, tears threatening to fall in both their eyes. </p><p>	“I know you miss him,” Karen soothed “I miss him too, but being angry is not going to make it better or bring him back.”</p><p>	“It might,” Finn challenged her. </p><p>She sniffled and hugged the bear tighter. </p><p>	Truth be told, she didn’t know how to process this loss. She had only been on the job for a few years with the Seattle Police Department and death was the daily. She had good friends and colleagues out there who were kind and fun after work. She could forget the horrors of her day after she clocked out. But from the moment her father uttered those words a year ago “cancer” she had been forced to face his mortality at an alarming rate. The last two weeks with him at the hospital where he worked so hard for so many years only exacerbated the agony of losing him. What a cruel irony to die at work even if he was off duty at that point. Now with just her mother, what was left for them? She had no siblings. No aunts or uncles. Grandparents passed long before she was even born. </p><p>	“I’m not going,” Finn concluded her emotional outburst. </p><p>“You’re going,” Karen laid down the law “you’re going to put on a nice dress and go and give your speech, if I have to, you have to.” </p><p>	It was then Finn realized how this was taking its toll on her mother who had seemed relatively calm and brave at first glance but Finn noticed the tremble in her hands as she focused on her writing, the sighs, the choking back tears, they were so bad at sharing emotions. Finn had spent most of her childhood either rowdy and loud outside or being scolded and tended to by her mother for misbehaving, forced into itchy dresses for parties and school, wild hair tamed with great strength and lots of hair spray. The distinction between what she did around her parents company at different stages of her life depended on the choice of the parent. Her father let her run wild outside and get dirty, climbing trees, riding her bike, jumping into mud puddles, letting her read his medical books by flashlight in her blanket fort in her room. She could not lie that she had more of a tendency to run to her father when she was upset or wanted a rational opinion or thought. But now, who would she run to? </p><p>	Feeling guilty and understanding at last, Finn scooted closer to Karen and said softly “I’m sorry,” piercing her with watery sad eyes. </p><p>	“It’s all right,” Karen said stoically, “we’ll be okay.”</p><p> </p><p>Wednesday June 26th 1996; </p><p>	Hot air constricted her breathing and made this dress even more uncomfortable as she proceeded to walk up the pathway to the hospital’s lobby with her mother and her speech tucked away in the purse she had to borrow since she didn’t carry one back in Seattle. She opted for a duffle bag instead which her mother made a face of disgust when she saw Finn try to stuff the printed speech in it prior to leaving the house prompting her to dash upstairs and retrieve some old leather handbag with a strap that pinched her shoulder and hand it begrudgingly over to Finn. </p><p>	Inside the space was cool and a welcomed relief. Folding chairs occupied the lobby space away from the main check in area and far away from the emergency room where her father spent most of his time. As Finn took in the familiar smells and sounds of the space, she wondered out loud to her mother “What about daddy’s office?” </p><p>	“He cleared it out months ago,” Karen reminded her “once he realized he couldn’t make it through a shift without feeling exhausted.” </p><p>	Finn stole a glance down the hallway where she knew the office was, hating whomever occupied it now, fighting the urge to run to it, lock herself inside and never leave. </p><p>	Karen tugged on her arm and guided her towards the ceremony space where several head doctors, her fathers colleagues, were gathered along with nurses and other staff. Some she recognized from her youth and time spent here and some she did not. </p><p>       Karen did all the talking, shaking hands and accepting hugs. But it was Finn who garnered the unwanted attention. Staff who knew her as a child, praising her for how grown up she was but still “so cute” how much they missed seeing her since she moved away, how much they loved her father and how many people he helped here. Stories were swapped, laughs shared amongst tears. Finn soaked it all up and felt her chest ache with confusion. Emotions ravished her soul; sad, lonely, worried, nervous, with nothing to soothe her. </p><p>      “Where can we sit?” Finn asked suddenly now. </p><p>         “Behind the podium dear,” a nurse kindly pointed and explained. </p><p>      “Thanks,” Finn said abruptly as she beelined for the seats away from the crowd. </p><p>       “That was a bit rude,” Karen scolded her when she arrived a few minutes later. </p><p>           “I don’t like small talk,” Finn snapped, crossing her arms and slouching in the rickety folding chair. </p><p>         “Don’t be like that,” Karen scolded again, nudging her to sit up and properly cross her leg. </p><p>        “This isn’t right,” Finn protested “daddy hates attention and these people just want to have a show.” </p><p>        “Honey it’s a little late for your daddy to complain now,” Karen offered the best comfort she could because there was no soothing this child, even as she had grown, her temperament grew more and more hostile and unrelenting. </p><p>      Finn was about to protest with another snippy remark when the chief of staff at the hospital grabbed everyone’s attention, speaking into the microphone and beginning to give his opening remarks. Finn tried to tune him out but everything he said about her father was nice and true. She felt the sting of tears again, she was nothing more than a grieving sideshow freak for all to see and take pity on. </p><p>    Worse still, was the introduction the chief of staff gave for her and her mother. </p><p>     “Here to accept the dedication on his behalf, Dr. Finlay’s wife Karen and daughter Julie” </p><p>     It seemed harmless enough but for Finn, it made her heartbeat faster knowing she would soon have to speak in front of all these people. As Karen rose from her chair, Finn followed suit. They stood holding a wooden plaque bearing her fathers name and years with the hospital. An identical wooden plaque was unveiled from beneath a red cloth hanging on the wall which was the beginning of the ward dedicated to him. More handshakes, photos to Finn’s horror, a reporter from the news and the local paper. It made her head spin and her chest ache again. </p><p>      Karen took the podium first, leaving Finn to hover at her side, feeling dizzy. </p><p>       “We are so grateful for this moment,” Karen said “Patrick loved this place and never wanted to stop working, he cared for everyone like they were his own family and the staff here became family to us over the years. Our sweet girl Julie was born here and this place means the world to us. I know if he would not have gotten sick, he would have continued to work here until you dragged him home. Thank you for all you have done for us and all the lives you impact with your incredible care.” </p><p>    She finished so eloquently and stepped aside so Finn could speak. </p><p>    “Um- I just want to say that uh, we, my mom and I,” Finn stumbled over her words and felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment “daddy- my father worked so hard my entire life and taught me to have a similar drive, I know how much he wanted me to follow in his footsteps here, and even though I didn’t, this place still feels like my second home, you took care of him when he was sick and let him have the dignity he deserved even on his last day.” </p><p>     She bit her lip and choked back a sob. </p><p>“He was taken too soon from us” she continued, hands trembling on the podium “but it’s my hope that this ward and the money raised from all his fundraisers over the years can help with research to find new treatments and cures for everyone, thank you for all you do and for loving my daddy as much as I did.” </p><p>    This time she didn’t correct herself and let the childlike term roll off her tongue the way it had her entire life. He was gone, there was no changing that, but she didn’t have to let him go if she didn’t want to. She hung her head as she collapsed back into her seat beside her mother, crumbling the paper with the handwritten speech into a ball and clutching it in her fist tightly. </p><p> </p><p>Night- </p><p>     Finn slipped into bed beside her mother once more, savoring the cool sheets on her arms and the cool breeze from the window air conditioner. This time she carried two stuffed animals tucked away in her grasp. Karen lulled her to sleep with a soft humming and gently running her fingers through her hair as opposed to all those years of forcefully attempting to untangle her curls with a brush. </p><p>       When it became obvious her daughter was asleep, Karen traced her fingers over the tear tracks that were still visible down her cheeks. She moved her fingers tenderly down her face and under her chin, savoring this contact and how long it had been since she really got to hold her sweet girl. The feisty child who wiggled out of her arms the moment she heard her fathers car door shut and knew he was home from work, who asked him to read her bedtime stories, who loved cars and sports like he did, had grown up into this headstrong independent woman who unraveled before her at the loss of the man she idolized. How was she to care for her now? How could she let her go back to Seattle alone? How could she stay in this empty house without her husband whom she loved so dearly and was ripped from her life too soon? How could she carry on holding the secret buried deep inside her soul that part of  now died with Patrick? This sweet girl before them was not the last of his soul that still existed and one day, Constance would come barging in again and then what would become of them?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I would like to think that Finn is very much a "daddy's girl" based off her personality. She loves her mother of course but the two often clash because they are so different. Worse still is the knowledge Karen and Patrick have in which they are not Finn's biological parents. It is the secret that looms over most of my stories involving the family, a young Finn and flashbacks of her life and memories. I explored it in a different fic from a few years back if anyone is interested. Linked<br/>here. </p><p>https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13043202/1/Even-If-It-Breaks-Your-Heart</p></blockquote></div></div>
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